Outsider
by Irena Goddess of Imagination
Summary: The BAU investigates a string of unusual murders, and they quickly realize that one of their members has a personal tie to the case. Set around the second half of season 6 or early season 7. Contains references to the episode 3X16 "Elephant's Memory." For more information, see the author's note inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Hello, wonderful readers! There are a few things to say before I get on with the story.

First, the unsub is a shameless rip-off of a certain superhero character. I don't want to say which one so I don't spoil it, but once you finish reading, you'll probably know which one I'm talking about. I just couldn't help myself; the character is just too inspiring and I thought the character would fit in well with the _Criminal Minds_ storylines.

Second, although I have been observing the _Criminal Minds_ vocabulary, I am still not an expert on law enforcement jargon or procedures. Since it's only a fictional story meant purely for entertainment, I didn't worry about it too much. If you have some expertise on law enforcement and see any mistakes, feel free to let me know in a review and I will do my best to fix it.

Third, since this is a story about a crime show, you can expect some violence and strong language.

Fourth and finally, I have no idea where the idea for this story came from. It just popped into my head one day and I wrote it down. Anyway, that's all and I hope you enjoy it. Now, on with the story!

* * *

"We make up horrors to help us cope with the real ones." - Stephen King

* * *

Jennifer Jareau sifted through the piles and piles of cases that came across her desk. Murders, abductions, rape. All the worst things human kind could do. She had seen it all, she told herself.

None of these cases seemed like worthy candidates. They were all horrible and in need of justice, yes, but she thought that local law enforcement didn't need the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Then she came to the last file. She ran her eyes down the paper and suddenly her weary yawns stopped. Nothing like this had ever come across her desk before, and the team needed to see it right away.

"Local fishermen discovered remains of an unidentified male in a river three days ago," JJ said in her presentation to the team, "And then, more remains were found in another location in the same river. The reason local authorities want us on the case is the condition of the remains when they were found."

She pulled up the photos of the remains and the entire team raised their eyebrows in shock.

"The victim's bodies were burned, cut into pieces, and dumped in a river in separate locations. Coroners are currently trying to piece the bodies together. Right now it looks like we have at least three victims."

"If this method of disposal is the unsub's way of trying to keep us from identifying the victims, that could mean he knew them," chimed in Prentiss.

"Or it could simply be a forensic countermeasure, which suggests that the unsub is criminally sophisticated and organized," added Rossi.

"The method of disposal is interesting. Using fire and water to dump the victims could also have some kind of symbolic meaning to the unsub," informed Dr. Reid.

"Whatever the reason, the unsub shows no sign of stopping these killings. We need to help before more bodies emerge. Wheels up in thirty, and Garcia, I want you to come with us on this one," ordered Hotch.

* * *

The man had his eyes locked onto the young girl. He loved the stupid ones. She should have known not to be wandering alone at this time of night. She looked like a good girl. Scarlet cardigan. White dress. White gloves. She must have been lost. She rubbed her arms to create friction heat in the chilly night air. He loved the good girls.

A few other men had been whistling at her as she walked down the street. He stepped out in front of her, startling her at first, but once she got a better look at him, she relaxed.

"Miss, is there somewhere you're going tonight? You look like you could use some help. Can I take you home?" he knew that with his looks, he could probably charm her into getting in a car with him.

"Oh, that would be very nice of you," said the girl in a timid voice, "I took a wrong turn somewhere, and now I don't know where I am."

"Not to worry, miss. I know this town like the back of my hand. I'll have you home in no time." He outstretched his arm for the girl to take and he led her into his car with ease.

After a few minutes of driving, they came upon a secluded road. No houses. No other cars. No one else around.

"Excuse me, sir. My house is the other way. Sir?" The girl said nervously as she reached into her purse for something, probably her cellphone.

At this point, he knew he would have to silence her. He stopped the car.

"Sir what are you doing? Wha-"

He grabbed her firmly by the wrist, but with her other hand, she pulled something out of her purse: a knife. Narrowing her eyes, she plunged the blade into his stomach and he quickly released her. The girl, with a surprisingly calm demeanor, put her dark brown hair behind her ears and pulled something else from her purse: gauze and medical tape. She covered the man's wound before any blood could get on the car. Then, she pulled a gun out of her purse.

"Get out of the car!" she shouted at him.

Now with tears dripping from his eyes, he managed to stand up despite his injuries.

"In the passenger seat!" she ordered him and he obeyed. "Make a sound and you're dead, you fucking pervert!" And they drove off somewhere into the night.

* * *

"According to the police, there are currently three missing people in the area who might be our victims," Hotch said to the team on the plane. The rest of the team looked at the photos of the man in their files.

"The first man's was black. We could be looking at a hate crime," said Morgan.

"Probably not since the next missing person is caucasian and he went missing just a day before some of the remains were found," corrected Reid.

"It says here that a woman went missing just two days before other remains were found. If these people are out victims, we're dealing with an unsub who crosses racial lines, gender lines, and socioeconomic status. From what I can tell, these people couldn't be any more different," said Emily in a concerned voice.

"They could just be victims of opportunity," said Rossi.

"With this much effort put into each victim, I doubt it. There's something that connects all these people; we just haven't found it yet," said Hotch. "Garcia," he called for her, "Please tell me someone was able to ID the victims."

"Uh, no sir. See, that's going to be extremely difficult," Penelope answered.

"Why? Haven't any jaw bones been found yet? Then they can be identified with dental records."

"I'm afraid that's impossible, sir."

"Why?"

"Because the unsub smashed the victim's jawbones into pieces."

* * *

The man had passed out from the pain at some point, but now he woke to find himself in what looked like an abandoned warehouse. He was on his back on the hard floor. He looked around to see if there was anyone or anything to help him, but all he saw was a woman in a black and red frilly dress and a white and red jester mask. His vision was blurry, but clear enough for him to see the knife in her hand. He tried to crawl away in his feeble state, but didn't get very far before her shoe pinned him down.

"You wanted to take me home. Well, here we are," she taunted him. Then, she removed her mask to reveal her face, a face that was ghostly white with black circles around her eyes, and blood red lips. "Let's have some fun." And then the screaming began.

* * *

"Okay, my lovelies. You told me to dig up whatever I could find about our missing people, and I kind of regret doing it now because I didn't like what I found," Garcia began to the whole team, "The man who went missing first had done some time in prison for molesting children. He got out on good behavior and because prisons are crowded. The second man wasn't so clean, either because apparently his ex-wife had just filed a restraining order against him and police reports say he violated that order on more than one occasion. According to the wife, he had become aggressive and she had to call 911 on him, not before he gave her a few bruises, though. And now, because I am a genius, I am sensing a pattern here. Our female had several visits from child protective services for allegations of child abuse. They never had enough hard evidence to take her children away, but the social workers on her case say that they didn't want to make those kids stay under her roof for another minute. Now, I know this isn't my job to say, but if I had to put my money on it, I'd say our unsub is a vigilante," said to the team once they had arrived at the police station.

"You're probably right, Garcia. If we're dealing with a vigilante, the unsub won't stop until he's either caught or dead. Search for people in this area who have had a recent loss as result of violent crime. This unsub feels that the justice system isn't doing enough to punish criminals," said Hotch.

"Okay. I'll get back to you when I've got something."

"Reid, Rossi, you go to examine the bodies. See if you can tell if the burning and severing of the limbs was done post or pre-mortem. The rest of us will try to form a strategy of how we can catch the unsub. This type of ubsub won't try to inject himself into the investigation, but he will probably be following media coverage and the actions of the police."

"Speaking of the media," JJ began, "We've got a small swarm of cameras and reporters outside, so brace yourselves and remember: all we have to say is 'no comment.'"

* * *

After she scrubbed the remaining blood off her body, the woman stepped out of the motel shower and put on a pair of yoga pants and a red tank top. She turned on the small TV in her room just in time to catch the late evening news. There was a small segment on the murders occurring in the area. Word had just got out that the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit was working on the case. The BAU team members stepped out of the police station into the small frenzy of reporters. The woman chuckled softly under her breath while she watched, until she caught a glimpse of one face in the BAU. Dr. Spencer Reid. She stood directly in front of the TV and followed him with her eyes until the clip was over.

* * *

"So I did a search for victims of violent crimes and families of victims, but none of them could be our unsub. I went back ten years, searched all around this area and beyond, but most of them have moved away or died. A few of them are young children, bless them. I even searched for deaths involving fire or drowning, but got the same results. Looks like we're back at square one," said Garcia.

"Not entirely," said Hotch, "Look for murders with similar MO's nationwide. This unsub has probably been killing for a long time, possibly across the whole country."

"Fret not, my loves, I will work my fingers until they break and find something for you."

"Thanks, Garcia."

Meanwhile, Reid and Rossi were examining the bodies, or what was found of them.

Spencer leaned over the table and eyed the charred remains of the first victim carefully. "Were you able to determine what was done pre-mortem and what was done post-mortem?" he asked the ME.

"Well I can almost certainly say that the body was burned post-mortem and the remains were scattered afterwards, but everything else..." she answered.

Rossi raised an eyebrow in interest. "Everything else?"

"There is evidence of other wounds, although the water made it difficult to say exactly what. Damage to the arms suggests that he might have been stabbed several times with a knife, and there were a few broken ribs, cracked skull. God only knows what happened to this guy. The other man's remains were in a similar condition, but the woman's remains were different. No signs of stabbing. I can't tell for sure, but if I had to guess, I'd say that the COD was blunt force trauma to the head, while the other two were probably from blood loss."

"So the unsub tortures the male victims, but kills females quickly. This could mean that he sees women as defenseless, so he lets out all of his rage on the men," stated Rossi.

"Maybe the victim of the crime that caused the unsub to lash out was a woman, like a daughter or wife," added Reid.

Just as he finished speaking, his phone rang. He put it on speaker.

Aaron Hotchner's voice flowed from the speakers. "Reid, Dave, you're going to be on the move again. There's been another murder."

As they arrived at the latest scene, two things stood out: one, it wasn't a river, and two, Spencer found something on the ground. In the filthy alley, there was plenty of trash scattered all over the ground, but something stood out to Spencer: a small red and black hair bow. After it was put into an evidence bag, he held it out for Rossi to see.

"This unsub is too organized to leave anything behind. This was planted here for us to find," he said.

"But why? He's been getting away with murder so far. Is he trying to taunt us?"

"I don't think so. I think there's something the unsub is trying to tell us." Rossi could see the little wheels spinning inside boy wonder's head. "The only female victim we know of didn't wear any bows in her hair. She didn't have any clothes like this at all. I think this bow belonged to the unsub. The unsub's a woman."

After a few phone calls to team members, Hotch ordered them, "Get back to the station. We're ready to give the profile."


	2. Chapter 2

"This unsub is a woman. Young and physically fit enough to overpower her victims, but her level of organization suggests that she experienced with crime, so focus on women in their late 20's to 30's," Hotch began to the crowd of police officers.

"This woman is a vigilante," JJ continued, "She's targeting people who have committed violent crimes against people who couldn't defend themselves. This leads us to believe that she or someone she loves was a victim of some kind of crime, one in which authorities couldn't or wouldn't do anything to help her."

"She's mission-oriented and criminally and forensically sophisticated. She doesn't leave any evidence or witnesses behind unless it's part of her plan. This could mean that she's done time in prison," added Rossi.

Emily picked up the profile from there. "Exacting revenge on criminals is what drives this unsub, so she will not stop until she is caught or physically unable to continue. As a precaution, do not under any circumstances try to apprehend this unsub without backup. She will probably be armed. Since we're law enforcement, she may see us as allies, but since law enforcement already failed her once, she might resent anyone in a uniform and lash out violently. It's a risk we _cannot_ take."

"Cash from the wallets of the victims was missing, so we believe that the unsub is using her victims' money for survival. Hunting criminals has become her whole life, leaving her with no time for a regular job. And the fact that these are the first crimes of this nature to be seen in this area tells us that the unsub travels around, probably in cheap motels, hunting for new victims in each city," said Morgan.

Finally, "And although this unsub is probably poor, she will use what little money she has to try to make herself appear attractive. It's how she lures some of her victims to their deaths. Also, with the discovery of the decorative hair bow, we think the unsub's kills are theatrical in nature. She's playing out some kind of revenge fantasy and takes pleasure in making her victims suffer as much as their victims did. This theatrical nature could stem from self-esteem issues, possibly caused by abuse during childhood. One final note: this unsub may try to live out her fantasy in her everyday life, acting and dressing the part wherever she goes. Pay extra attention to women who wear the colors black and red in their clothes or accessories. Thank you," Reid finished.

After the officers dispersed, Rossi patted Reid on the back and said, "Nice job kid, but there are still a lot of questions we need to answer. How is she finding her victims, deciding who's guilty and who's not guilty? Where is the secondary location where she tortures her victims? And though the bodies couldn't tell us much, we can assume that she's acting alone and only an average-sized woman at best. How is she controlling her victims before the kill and transporting their bodies?"

"I guess it'll all make sense once we catch her," answered Reid.

"I hope so," Rossi said before patting the kid on the back again and stepping away.

"Hey, Hotch!" Derek called out to his boss as he looked out the front window of the police station, "See that girl across the street?"

How could he miss her? She was dressed like a clown from Hell. Two short dark ponytails. Red and black corset with pants and arm warmers to match. Her face was painted creamy white with black makeup smudged around her eyes and cherry red lipstick.

"Isn't she wearing the same bows as the one found at the last crime scene?" Morgan also asked.

"That's her. We need to make the arrest," ordered Hotch. And within seconds he, Derek, and the entire police force on duty was outside, surrounding the girl with their guns aimed at her.

She put her hands up. "All this fuss over little old me?" she taunted with a smirk and a giggle. She didn't resist arrest, but as Hotch grabbed her and cuffed her hands behind her back she nearly growled at him and glared at Morgan.

JJ and Emily joined them as they brought her into the station they patted her down and removed the knife they found on her belt.

"What are these for?" Morgan asked.

"Lady's gotta have protection, right girls?" she said, looking at Emily and JJ.

Hotch and Morgan stepped aside, "What are we gonna do, Hotch?"

"I've never seen a better fit to a profile, but we're going to need a little more than a bow as evidence."

"Doesn't it strike you as a little odd that this girl just happened to be walking right in front of the police station immediately after we gave the profile?"

"I know. That's bothering me too, but since we've got her here, we'll see what we can find out from her."

"How do you wanna do this?"

"She tortured the male victims, but killed the females quickly. And she was aggressive with us, but not with Prentiss and JJ. She could just hate men, which would make sense because most violent crimes are committed by them. We'll have Prentiss and JJ lead the interrogation. Maybe she'll open up to them."

Morgan rubbed the back of his neck in exhaustion, "I hope so. Something about a killer in a clown suit freaks me out."

* * *

Jennifer Jareau entered the interrogation room with the clown woman, who had her black boot resting on top of the table.

"Fuck you're gorgeous," the woman, Jane Doe for now, said sincerely when JJ entered the room.

"Uh, thank you," JJ replied uncomfortably. "Well you didn't have an ID on you, and nobody seems to know who you are, so I guess my first question is: What's your name?"

"La plume de ma tante," she answered before releasing a spine-chilling giggle.

At this point, JJ knew that she couldn't follow typical interrogation protocol this time. She decided to try and build rapport by asking honest, non-judgmental questions. "Can I ask you something? Why are you doing all this? What do you want?"

Jane licked her upper lip in thought. "I don't know, a hot date with Dr. Reid," after a moment gazing out the window," she finished, "Other than that, I think I'd just like to be left the fuck alone."

"We can't do that, not when you're a suspect for murder."

"Are you sure about that?"

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean."

"All I have to do is sit here and not say anything, until you legally can't keep me here anymore."

"Suit yourself." And JJ. stood and left her alone without another word.

"Well she sure seems determined," said Emily.

"Don't worry. Give it some time and I'm sure we can break her."

"How, though?"

"Look at her. She's wearing a costume. That means she's playing some kind of persona, like she'd feel exposed without it. If we play along with her, maybe we can get her to reveal something."

"The question is: how do we do that?"

"She said she wanted a date with Reid. She was joking, but maybe there's some genuine fondness fro him underneath. Maybe we could use him to get through to her."

"Are you sure he'd be up to this? That fondness might turn into violence."

"Well have Morgan watch from outside in case it gets physical."

"Alright, then. Where is wonderboy anyway?"

* * *

"Now remember, Spence, you're trying to play along with the persona," instructed JJ.

Reid nodded.

"And don't let her get under your skin," Prentiss added.

Reid nodded politely again at his colleagues telling him things he already knew.

"I'll be waiting right out here in case it gets physical. Don't have too much fun in there," teased Morgan.

With one final deep breath, Dr. Reid stepped alone into the interrogation room.

"Kind of rude of you not to bring flowers the first time, don't you think?" said Jane, feigning hurt feelings.

"I mean no disrespect, miss, but it's been a very busy day for me. Four murders in two weeks." Reid sat down and kept his tone polite as he spoke.

"Have you caught the killer yet?" she said with a grin.

"Not yet, buy maybe you could help us."

"Ooh! I get to play in the game too? Fun!"

"Yes. We think the killer is going to strike again. Do you know who the next target is?"

"Hmmm... I'd say... a real asshole."

"Can you give me a name?"

"I can't. I only have one."

"Really? Me too."

"We're the same."

"I guess we are."

"Why are you here?"

"Pardon?"

"I mean, why are you here grabbing scumbags off the streets when you're smart enough that you could have the whole world in the palm of your hand?"

Dr. Reid paused, trying his best not to let the shock spread across his face. "I guess I like the people here."

"Really?"

"Yes, now I'd like to ask you a few more questions about the case."

"Anything for you, Dr. Reid."

"Why do you think the killer targeted these people?"

Jane twirled a strand of her hair. "They must've been naughty."

"How? What did they do?"

"You know what," she answered with a sinister giggle.

"I don't. I need you to help me understand."

"Reid!" Derek Morgan burst through the door and Jane fixed her eyes on him. "Another body was found. We need you at the scene."

"I'll be right there," he answered and nodded goodbye to Jane.

"Seeya later, sweet thing," she said with a wave. As Reid exited the room, she nearly snarled at Morgan until he was gone.

* * *

"Same MO. It's clearly her," said Morgan as they returned from the scene, which had been scattered with little plastic hearts this time.

"We haven't proven her guilty yet," replied Reid.

"Well with the color theme and the theatrics, I figured it was a pretty safe assumption."

When they stepped through the door back at the police station, "Jane" was right there. "Aww, I knew you'd come back for me," she said as her eyes locked on him. She burst out of the grip of her guards and charged at him like a predator. Although she was still handcuffed, the others acted protectively. She stole a wet kiss from Reid before being pulled off him. Even as she was dragged away from him, she maintained eye contact and a wicked playful giggle. Just after she was locked in a room far away from Reid, Garcia stepped before the group.

"Sorry, guys. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but that was all a waste of time."

The rest of the team eyed her with confusion and curiosity.

"It's not her. She has an alibi. Security footage from a gas station shows her right there at the time the ME said the murders were committed. We have to let her go."

Morgan was the first to speak. "You've gotta be kidding me."

"I kid you not, sugar. The girl in the footage matches her perfectly, right down to the little bows in her hair that make me sooo jealous." Garcia held up a tablet playing the security footage she spoke of. It confirmed that their Jane Doe, in full costume, made her way around the gas station isles and stayed there for quite a while.

"Alright, let her go," said Hotch in defeat.

"Dammit, that means there's someone even crazier than her still out there," vented Derek in frustration.

Dr. Reid simply eyed the footage as everyone else went on with their work. "Why would she just walk into a gas station dressed like that?"

"I don't know, to grab some cosplay supplies maybe? Now that we know she's not a killer, maybe I can see if she can give me some makeup tips. I've been trying to pull of the scary clown look for years now," answered Garcia before returning to her computer desk.

Still, something was nagging at his mind. And then, they got a 911 call.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** I do not own anything by The Jackson 5. Please don't sue. I'm only a fan.

* * *

"Oh God please help me! There's a lady here in a clown suit. She's got a gun! She's trying to kill me! God please help! Please help me!" a woman screamed on the phone.

"Miss, stay on the phone we're on the way. We're going to help you, just stay on the phone," Rossi instructed her comfortingly.

The address of the call was that of a junk yard. The team arrived on the scene within minutes and split up. The whole yard was silent, motionless, and showed no sign of a struggle. The woman who made the call was nowhere to be seen. Neither was the unsub. They slipped through the winding dirt paths between the stacks of junk cars. Spencer had his gun raised as he heard a sound coming from one of the cars.

"Please help me," a soft voice peeped from inside the car.

"It's okay. My name is Spencer. I'm with the FBI. We're going to help you. Just step out of the car slowly. You're safe," he said calmingly.

Yet before he could call for backup, he was staring down a gun. Out of the car, clad in a black tutu, boots, and red corset, stepped the Jane Doe. "Drop your weapon and don't make a sound," she ordered him.

As soon as his gun was on the ground and his hands were up, she said, "I was just kidding. I'd never hurt you, Sweet Thing." And she pulled an injection from a pocket in her red and black pants.

She grabbed a hold of Spencer and held the needle up to his neck.

He struggled and squirmed and begged, "No no no, please don't."

"Don't worry, this is non-narcotic." She stuck him in the neck. She knew she only had a few seconds before he would completely collapse, and she didn't have the time to drag his unconscious body around, so she guided him as he stumbled around all tipsy. He leaned on her for support and couldn't even keep his head up as she lead him into a car. The one working car in the whole junk yard blended in with the rest, and the BAU never would have noticed it. She pulled his phone out of his pocket and tossed it onto the ground before speeding off into the night with the good doctor passed out in the backseat. His team was going to have to rely on good-old-fashioned profiling to find their friend.

* * *

Back at the police station, Derek slammed his hands on a table in frustration and terror that rocked him to his core. "It doesn't make any sense. We proved that the Jane Doe wasn't the unsub, and the unsub only targets violent criminals, which Reid isn't. Why would she take him?"

Penelope stood by, speechless at her friend's rage, but ready to support him wherever needed.

"There must be some other motivation. You saw the way she looked at him, she's likely infatuated or obsessed with him, which means she probably won't hurt him, until she realizes that he doesn't live up to her fantasies. We need to find him before that happens," said Hotch.

"Uh, guys," Penelope said in a soft voice, the kind of voice she only used when she was about to deliver bad news. "I just looked at that footage from the gas station again, and well- long story short- I worked my magic on it and found out that the girl in the footage isn't the Jane Doe. She must've used a body double dressed like herself."

"That changes everything. Garcia, start a search for places in the area that the unsub could use as the secondary location where she took her victims. Isolated houses, abandoned warehouses, anything," Hotch ordered before stepping away to speak to the police chief.

"Fast as lightning sir," and her magic fingers got to work, but while she worked, she spoke to Derek, "You know he's gonna be okay, right?" She never even looked up from her screen.

"What?"

"Our boy's a genius. He can talk his way out of anything."

"I know, it's just..." Derek didn't have to finish his sentence. He knew that Penelope understood.

* * *

He'd heard this song before, he was sure of it, but the grogginess from the drugs made it hard to pinpoint exactly what song it was. Probably one of Mozart's operas, he decided before opening his eyes. His vision was blurry at first, but as he fully came to his senses Reid scanned his new surroundings. Immense crimson and white fabrics hung in front of the walls and spread across the floor to mask the filthy structure. An attractive chandelier sat glittering in the center of the room. As Reid became aware of his orientation, he realized that he was tied to a chair, an elegant-looking one with embroidered cushions. Yet, after further examining the chair, he concluded that it was cheap and probably from a second-hand store. It was beautiful, though. He identified the source of the music as an old record player on a table with a white table cloth.

A woman emerged from the hanging fabrics, and with the jester mask and red and black gown, unmistakably the Jane Doe. The slit in her slender dress revealed the black pants she wore underneath.

"Do you feel alright?" rang her voice in a much gentler tone that he had heard from her so far. For the first time, it seemed the sarcasm had evaporated from her voice.

"Other than the headache and the restraints digging in my skin, I feel great. What do you want with me?" he replied once he found his voice.

"Sorry about that. I needed to see you."

"Is that why you killed all those people, just to get to me? Why?"

"Come on, Doctor. You can do better than that. Those people would have been dead anyway. You were just a bonus."

"Who are you?"

"With your memory, I'm surprised you don't already know. Then again, it was a very long time ago." Finally, she removed her mask. Her eyelashes were not covered in black smudge this time. They were only shadowed in a smoky eyeshadow. Her lips were not smeared with paint, but polished with cherry lipstick. Her complexion was not ghostly pale with powder, but swelling with life.

The little gears in his mind started turning. "You're... Ellen. Ellen Rivers from high school. How did you find me?"

Ellen chuckled softly. "Spencer, you're not that hard to find. You're a big-shot FBI agent. Plus, I knew you'd come to me for the job one of these days."

"It all makes sense now. We profiled that you would be a vigilante because of some kind of injustice that happened in your life where the law wasn't on your side. If I remember correctly, the teachers all suspected that your parents were abusing you, but could never find any proof. Your parents kept you locked at home and pulled you out of school later. That paired with the incessant bullying at school left you with uncontrollable rage and desire for revenge, but no matter how much you kill and try to reach justice for those you see as victims, it's never enough because nothing will ever erase the pain you felt from your tormentors. The theatrical costumes tell me that you also still harbor some insecurity, despite all the changes you're tried to make since you were a child." The words just kept flowing from him robotically like he couldn't stop himself.

"Boy, you really know how to tell what's on a girl's mind," she said as he took her on an unpleasant walk down memory lane. "You know my parents used to lock me in the bathroom for hours and make me beg for food? Of course, child protective services can't help much when there aren't any bruises."

"But there's one thing I don't understand. The abuse was the stressor, but what was the trigger?"

A chuckle burst out from Ellen's mouth. "You."

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"You were the only person in the world who might've understood what it's like when your life is hell at school and home. You graduated when I was a freshman, then I was totally alone. But don't go around blaming yourself for all the bodies that have been dropping lately. They doomed themselves."

"You didn't have to kill them. You could have brought them in alive, but you wanted to save them for yourself because you enjoy inflicting pain on them."

Soon she changed the subject. "Do you remember Harper Hillman and Alexa Lisbon? What am I saying? Of course you remember."

Yes. Of course he remembered the girls from one of the worst bullying incidents of his life. He nodded.

"Their sophomore year, they tragically died of alcohol poisoning. They drank themselves to death at a sleepover. The next year a few of the football players died in a sudden car accident. The year after that, another one got drunk at a party and fell off a roof. He broke his neck and died instantly. The rest of team perished in an explosion while they were working in a meth lab shortly after graduation."

Spencer listened in horror as he realized what had been done to his school tormentors. "How did you know what they did to me? I remember all the faces that were there that day, yours wasn't one of them."

"I lived across the street from the school. I could see you from my front window. I wanted to help you so bad, but my father screamed at me not leave the house. I was so scared, but I knew that you must've been scared even worse." She stepped closer and closer to him, "Oh, Spencer, I'm so sorry. I wanted to help you. I wanted to stop them from hurting you before they started. I just wanted to take your pain away. Spencer, I'm so sorry."

Tears were almost spilling out of her eyes and Spencer realized that he would have to take a soft, understanding approach to get her to release him, although he was certain that she wouldn't try to harm him. "It's okay, Ellen. I understand," he said.

"Later that night, after my parents were asleep, I had to sneak out of the house to find you. I untied you from the goalpost."

The memories came flooding back to him, and he felt himself choking up. "I remember. You covered me with my sweater and held me, and you were... you were singing. I passed out and when I woke up, I thought it was a dream." He never got a look at her face since she came up from behind him, but she saw the red sleeves on her arms.

 _"It's okay Spencer. I've got you. Everything's going to be alright. You're safe. Nothing can hurt you."_

 _She wrapped her arms around him and let him rest his head on her chest. In her high, adolescent voice, she peeped out softly, "You and I must make a pact. We must bring salvation back. Where there is love, I'll be there."_

She reached out to stroke his cheek, then wiped her tears away, which made her eye makeup run a bit. "Remember when we read _The Outsiders_ in English class, and the teacher made us read lines for Ponyboy and Cherry Valance in front of the class. I'm pretty sure the other kids spent the rest of the week teasing me and calling you a fag, but that still sticks out in my memory and I can't help but smile every time I think of it."

"I do remember. It was fun," he said, hoping to keep from upsetting her.

"You stayed gold," she murmured.

"What?"

"You stayed gold all this time. You're a big hero, saving lives, catching the bad people like me."

"No, no. You're not a bad person. You just need help, that's it. I can help you. Let me help you, please." Spencer could see that she could be coming hysterical now, and he desperately had to try to prevent that from happening.

"Why did you and I turn out so different? You and me, we started out so similar, and now you're the sweetest person in the world but I'm..."

"Just let me help you, please. Let me out of here and I can help you. Me and my team, we can help you."

Spencer suddenly tensed up as she pulled a gun from her purse. She walked back to him as he pleaded with her, "No, no, no. You don't have to do this," until she loosened the rope on one of his arms.

"Please kill me," she handed him the gun.

"I'm not going to kill you. I don't want to hurt you. Just please take the gun and put down the gun and we can talk."

Soon, they heard the police sirens whaling and coming closer. Ellen wiped the remaining tears from her face for the sound of sirens seemed to snap her out of her hysteria. She pulled another injection from her purse. "Now I'm just going to put you to sleep for a while. By the time you wake up, I'll be long gone."

"My team will find you," said Spencer, dreading being drugged while tied to a chair again.

"Maybe. Years from now. Now just relax. You're going to be fine. You'll sleep like the dead for a few hours and you might have a headache when you wake up, but I'll leave you some aspirin to take care of that."

"Please, don't," Spencer made one last pathetic plea.

Ellen sensed how genuinely terrified he was. "Here," she reached over and pulled one of the smaller red pieces of fabric off the wall, then covered Spencer with it in an almost motherly fashion. "Everything's going to be okay," and she stuck the needle in his arm and kissed him on the head as his muscles relaxed and his eyes closed. Before he was completely lost to dreamland, she told him, "Stay gold, Ponyboy." She let her hand linger on his for a moment before escaping out the back door.

She knew the police were so close that they would have already created an inescapable perimeter around the area, so she climbed up the fire escape and onto the roof. She hid behind the ledge to avoid detection, dirtying her crimson dress. With a small mirror, she was able to catch a glimpse of the paramedics wheeling Spencer out of the warehouse on a gurney, needlessly worrying over him. If she looked closely, she could see that the makeshift blanket she gave him was still with him and smiled softly to herself.

Right now, the police and BAU were probably looking around the decorated warehouse, baffled, about to tear down all her work for evidence. Boy, Spencer was going to have one hell of a story to tell when he woke up.

* * *

The ever-faithful companion Derek Morgan was there for Reid when he woke up in a hospital hours later.

"There's our pretty boy, back from the dead. You feeling okay?"

Reid cleared his throat and blinked hard before answering. "A little tired, but other than that, I feel fine. Did you find the girl?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Derek sighed and said, "No, Reid, we didn't. In case you were wondering, we did eventually figure out that she used a body double to throw us off with the gas station footage. We tracked down the girl in the video. Apparently the unsub paid a prostitute fifty bucks just to put on the costume to walk around in front of the cameras for a while. She never saw the unsub's face. All she knew was that she was a white girl in her twenties or thirties and called herself 'Columbina.' At least now we know one of her aliases... Listen, I know this is going to be hard for you, but I need you to tell me exactly what she did to you."

"What did she do to me? Nothing. Nothing at all." As he recalled last night's events in his mind, he was finally able to identify the song that was playing in the warehouse: from _The Magic Flute_ , Pamina's aria.

* * *

"You have been my friend... That in itself is a tremendous thing." - E. B. White

* * *

 **Author's Note:** The sequel to this story is officially up now. It's called "Desperado." Thank you all for reading!


End file.
